Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m so bloody close.
Then I let go. Bursting into his impeccable arse. Giving Austin my sweet cream. Pump after bloody pump, gushing and filling any available space inside him. Flooding his hollows with every drop I can offer.
I see his cock burst fat ropes into the sheets. Moans of divine pleasure escaping his filthy mouth. Cumming on impact from my milk. Oh, how he fricking loves it.
We both tip over onto the bed. Knackered and panting and sweaty, lying in our mess of filth. We don’t say anything, allowing our breath to fill the air of the room. I pull him in close to me, landing a sweet kiss onto his forehead and close my eyes. A perfect ending for the evening.
Just as I’m closing my eyes, my twat of a brother pops back into my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to try something with Austin, my boyfriend, my forever.
Scheming some shit to fuck with me.
But tonight, I'm over the moon. With my love in my arms, I'll worry about that tomorrow.
Chapter 4
Drew
Christ,myhead’sbloodypounding. Those bitter martinis were a mistake. Well, maybe just the last few. Every throb is a nail driving into my temple, barbaric and incredibly sharp. Could’ve been an actual stick, knowing how I can get after a few. Not that I didn’t deserve it; I can be an arse. I just… can’t help it.
This is my world. Everyone else? Just tenants in my daydream. Characters I’ve allowed to exist in the margins, all aching to have a taste of me.
What a fucking night.
I know I’m not the prettiest drunk out there, but at least I made it back to St. Paul in one piece.
Who doesn’t vomit after a night out?
All for a good cause. As if I give a fuck about Celiac’s. Not my fault those poor bastards can’t eat gluten. What a dreadful existence—no beer or bread. No wonder they needed the joy of money. Do they choose to feel normal or to be tempted by a hoppy ale?
Or would they end up feeling as miserable as I do right now?
I pull the silky black curtains shut, blocking out the reminder that it’s morning. The worst time of the day. People alwaysget rattled when you wake up and toss back a Bloody Mary, as if that’s some sort of crime.
If I’ve learned anything in my thirty-nine goddamn years on this planet, it’s that people are pathetic prudes. Always judging, too afraid to indulge in life’s greatest pleasures. Clutching their pearls instead of taking what they desire.
Not a fucking problem for me. I don’t have any shame. Not an emotion that I’m capable of. I sleep like a baby every night. Skip church every Sunday. If God exists, he can strike me down this moment. But he won’t. Never has and never will.
My very own father taught me that there is no bloody Lord, no almighty above that protects you from evil. My old man used and took what he wanted from me until I snapped back with my teeth and sent me off to Vermont.
The weak sit there and take it; the strong indulge in what they can conquer.
The penthouse reeks of vomit and liquor. A snobby reminder that I probably should’ve stopped at my fourth martini. However, restraint isn’t one of my virtues.
Somewhere between drink three and meeting Charlie’s little boy toy, I decided I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot across the ice.
Austin Schmidt.
A new lad to conquer.
I hadn’t expected for him to look so fucking fit. In an All-American kind of way. Wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his pouty eyes basically begging for me to tear it off of him and give him a properfuck. Spread his muscular peaches. I know I can fuck him better than Charlie. I can doanythingbetter than my baby brother.
And fucking pussy? That’s my specialty. Doesn’t matter if it’s between a woman’s legs or buried in a man’s arse—if it’s tight and begging to be stretched, it’s mine. Drives me nearly insane when a bloke groans for me, voice breaking down while I’m deep inside him, their whole body giving up to me one thrust at a time. Begging me to go faster with my prick. That’s the sort of sound that makes my blood boil.
I fuck to win. I don’t give a rat’s ass if they got tits or not. Once I’m inside, they’re mine. I’m not stopping until they are creamy and filthy. Properly marked by a man. And if Charlie’s already had them? Even better. I’ll make them forget his name by the time I’m done—sear mine into their memories instead.
Charlie reckons he’s untouchable. Off-limits. But no one’s safe from Drew Evans. I take what I want, when I want it. No matter the cost.
Fuck—my head throbs again, a nasty pounding behind my eyes. I need some pills.
